


Fallen Angels

by Starkworth



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Armali Council, Arranged Marriage, Asari Characters, Asari Het, Chivalry, Crash Landing, Drama, Exploration Project, F/M, First Contact, First Contact AU, Gen, Human Characters, Humans think Asari are angels hence the title, Maiden!Samara, Medieval Alternate Earth, Multi, Not FemSlash, Pairing as rare as diamonds, Romance, So much asari femslash I've got to mix things up a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkworth/pseuds/Starkworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a primitive world, a man trades in his son's future to end a feud that has lasted generations. He prays to his gods in his time of inner turmoil, desperate and fearful for the safety of his family. From across the stars, blue angels come, falling from the heavens. They appear to be beauty made flesh, but only time will tell if they are a blessing for his family, or a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this idea has been swimming around in my head for a good few months, ever since I found out that there was some cut content from the ‘Lair of the Shadow Broker’ DLC involving a younger Samara crash landing on Earth during Shakespeare’s time, with her and her fellow asari crew members encountering medieval humans and such. 
> 
> The idea of that happening would not let me go. That and the fact that I got inspiration from another writer, Eterna1Soldier (he's back on fanfiction.net) and his plethora of annoyingly well-written first contact fics. He, much like myself, has a fascination with the asari species, so if you like this fic then you’ll love what he has to offer.
> 
> So… here you go.
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you think. I am not so thin-skinned as to not handle criticism.

**Armali, Northern Apastyr - Thessia  
Rumareai apartment complex, uptown**

Aela was not having a good day. 

The short asari matron was pacing around her cluttered apartment, battling the building feelings of anger, frustration and anxiety. Back and forth she travelled across the main living quarters, all the while the holo-screen played a turian drama. She ignored it, her thoughts elsewhere. 

A short distance from the dark blue woman, sitting on her work desk, was her communication unit, its holo-display opened and once again replaying the most recent message.

Much like the holo-screen, the audio file had none of Aela’s attention. Not that it needed it, for the asari had heard the message enough times to memorize it.

_“Captain Aela Norvis,”_ A feminine voice spoke, smooth and sweet and full of false compassion. 

_“We regret to inform you that the High Thessian Council of Matriarchs has decided against the renewal of your exploration contract. This is in no way a reflection of you or your crew’s skills, however. All exploration and territory expansion projects have been put on hold for the foreseeable future._

_“Although you and your crew are known for a history of exemplary service to the Asari Republics and an unparalleled ability to seek out habitable and resource-rich planets for colonization, recent discussions with respected turian and salarian officials have led the Matriarchy to the conclusion that further expansion through unexplored relays is unnecessary at this time._

_“We thank you for your many years of service and wish you nothing but good fortune in any and all of your future endeavors._

_“Sincerely, Chieftess Elynn Araeni, spokeswoman for the High Thessian Council of Armali.”_ The voice droned on, with but little sincerity. 

Aela knew that the turians had been pushing for a temporary cessation of all exploration activities, but surely the wily salarians would have stood against such notions! Aela frowned, rubbing her crest as if that would sooth her headache, imagining that the salarians must have been brow-beaten by the surly turian “diplomats”. 

_Damn them!_ The matron glowered as she finally took a seat on her cheap couch, taking slow, heavy breaths. The salarians were a cautious bunch, sure, but they took risks just as often as they did not. They knew that the bold are rewarded as much as they are punished, that curiosity could be fruitful. 

The turians, however, were rigid, uncompromising and static. As fierce as their fighters were, so were they steadfast. Change defeated them and thus change was their enemy. And, apparently, so was Aela’s line of work. 

_This is dreadful_ , Aela thought, _simply dreadful!_ Her, her crew, hundreds of others like them, all out of work because the paranoia of a few.

Her omni-tool flashed and beeped, indicating that she was receiving yet another message, this time to her personal device. She flipped open her holo-display, navigating to her message inbox, finding a text file labeled “Phorae”. She clicked on it.

-

_Aela,_

_Goddess, have you heard what the Matriarchs said? They’ve sent all the captains of exploration vessels messages! I just got into town! Call me as soon as you can!_

_-Rae._

-

Sighing, Aela did so. She waited a moment as her omni-tool synced with the local comm. array, linking her up with her fellow crew-member and friend. Before she could get a word in, Phorae Alyste’s normally bubbly voice assaulted her ears, now panicked and distressed. 

_“Did you get my message, Aela? Did you hear what the Matriarch’s have said? What are we going to do, Aela? I haven’t got any other prospects! The others, they don’t either! Oh, goddess, what are we going to do?”_

All of it had been said in a single breath. 

Despite her recent loss of work, Aela could not help the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. 

“I have heard, Rae. I know it’s bad, but…” She replied, trying to come up with something that might calm her friend down. 

_“But what, Aela? This isn’t bad, this is awful!”_

“Rae . . .”

_“We don’t have jobs now! You and I, the rest of the crew, we put everything into searching for new worlds! Goddess, how is Etza going to take this? Or Lani?”_

“Rae . . .”

_“. . . And with the unopened relays under lockdown, the galaxy is only going to get smaller. They won’t need us, Aela! All the places worth finding would’ve already been found!”_

Aela flinched as if struck. She knew how bad her situation was, but to hear her friend say it aloud… The matron caught herself quickly, her face hardening, hoping her voice would as well. She leaned forward, bringing her mouth closer to the microphone. 

“You don’t need to remind me how things work, Rae. Trust me, I know better than most. This is not the best position we find ourselves in–”

_“Definitely not.”_

“But, we are asari, Rae. We are resourceful. We’ll find a way to make things work in our favor, one way or another,” Aela assured both her friend and herself, not entirely believing her own words.

For a moment there was silence on the other end of the line, leaving the matron to wonder if Phorae was even still there. Then came her voice.

_“Okay,”_ Aela’s friend quietly spoke, noticeably less anxious than she was moments ago. _“I trust you, Aela. We’ll… we’ll make it work. Even if we have to spend weeks hauling goods from one backwater colony to the next, we’ll keep on going.”_

Aela gave a small smile.

“Yeah,” She said. “We’ll be fine.”

This time, she almost believed it.

The matron found herself finally relaxing, her shoulders, once tense, now slumping as she leaned back into her couch. She allowed herself to turn into a puddle for a brief moment, her heavy eyelids fluttering shut. Perhaps it would not be so bad, she barely believed, perhaps they would find work in other field. They had a ship, they had a crew. There must be someone in the galaxy who would hire them for something. Anything.

_It’s going to be fine_ , Aela thought, her mind drifting to happier thoughts…

Then Phorae’s voice came rushing back, piercing her ears.

_“Do want to go get some drinks?”_

“Goddess, _yes._ ”

 

**]-[**

 

Neither Aela nor Phorae were in the mood to go to a club. The bright, pulsing lights, the booming music that would have no doubt ruptured their eardrums, that was not what they desired. All the two asari wanted was to do was to drink their frustration away. Fortunately, Aela knew of a small, cozy bar – hidden deep in downtown Armali – that was more to their current tastes.

The establishment was a nice choice, Aela decided. It was a rather obscure “watering hole” type of bar, the kind that was built to reflect a certain time period, where stepping inside felt like stepping into another century. The time in particular was shortly after the Krogan Rebellions, during the Galactic Biotic Games, the establishment reminiscent of the ones the asari public would gather at to watch the live event unfold on the old-style holo-screens.

There, they drank. 

It was . . . nice. Two old friends, sitting side by side, enjoying each other’s company in silence – with the occasional slurred joke or two as the exception. However, the other denizens – as well as the bartenders – appeared to have little patience for Aela and Phorae’s uninhibited heart-to-heart. Ultimately, the frowns and grimaces thrown their way were justified, for in the end, the establishment was really a dolled-up sports bar – not a catharsis hub. 

“We’ll be fine, Rae,” Aela repeated, attempting a chipper tone even with her drink – her fourth one – making her feel more than just a little dizzy. 

“You . . . you’re absolutely right!” Her friend agreed, stumbling over her words. She smiled, goofy and brightly, bumping her shoulder against Aela’s, all the while ignoring the odd looks thrown their way by the turquoise-skinned bartender. “W-we’ll be aaalright. Like you said, Ae: we’re asari. It’s not like we’ve got a time limit or something. Hell, I could go back to school! Learn something else and find a new career!”  
Aela snorted, almost choking on her drink. 

“That’s not a bad idea, n-no not at all.”

Phorae continued on, undeterred. “I mean, how long would that take? Five years? A decade? I’ve got the time. I’m an asari, I’ve got all the time in the galaxy!” 

Both asari broke into a fit of drunken giggles, sputtering as they nearly toppled off their stools. This earned them a rather pointed look from the bartender, who made a show of moving certain breakable objects a distance away from the chuckling pair. It was enough to be noticed by Aela who understood the wordless request: please stop acting like drunken fools and try not to break my stuff.

The older asari nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. She set her drink done and gently separated Phorae from hers, sliding both glasses a short way down the bar. Phorae made an unintelligible sound, one of bewilderment and annoyance at the loss of her sweet honey mead. She shot her friend a look, her white facial markings moving as her brow formed into a glare. 

Aela simply patted the younger asari on the back. 

“Th-that’s enough for tonight, I believe. We should go home, both of us,” Aela said, managing to sound at least somewhat sober as she attempted to ease of her stool with at least some semblance of the grace her species was known for. “We were always lightweights, Rae. Let’s not continue lest we do something we’ll both regret tomorrow.”

Phorae grunted, obviously annoyed at their early departure, but followed anyway. She too slid off of her barstool, faring much better in keeping herself dignified despite having consumed more than her partner.

_I’ll never understand how she is able to do that._

The pair headed for the door as quick as they could without stumbling, having taken the hint that they had overstayed their welcome at the small establishment. It had become apparent that the bartenders did not appreciate their increasingly impaired ability to speak, nor did they enjoy Phorae’s half-drunken attempt to recite her University’s graduate oath. 

The two women left the bar to a dazzling display of glittering skyscrapers that towered above them, office and hotel lights shining against the dark night sky. Skycars zipped by overhead like a continuous stream of shooting stars, crisscrossing and swerving between buildings. Streetcars took to the smoothly paved roads as well, carrying on at a leisurely pace, slow enough for passersby to admire the vehicles’ sleek shapes – very much unlike the clamshell skycars.

They had travelled only a block before Aela came to the conclusion that they would need to call a cab. “We’ll never make it back home walking,” the older asari had told her friend as she led her to a nearby bench.  
As Rae sat down on the somewhat-clean bench, Aela opened up her omni-tool and began to scroll through her contacts list, searching for a cab company.

An interruption came in the form of a dark, nondescript street-van coming to stop right beside them. Three asari emerged from the vehicle. The first, a light blue woman whose plain face was devoid of markings, was dressed in a black bodysuit. Emblazoned above her right breast was a yellow marking that Aela recognized as ancient Thessian script – the marking of the respected T’Mosa bloodline. The same symbol could be seen marking the other two asari as well, adorning their formfitting commando leathers. 

They approached the two less-than-sober asari with purpose, standing as tall and rigid as any turian soldier. Aela could not help but feel a little apprehension as to what might happen next. First she and her crew had been essentially fired, now . . . was she to be arrested, too?

The plain-faced asari in the black bodysuit walked up close but kept a respectful distance. She crossed her arms behind her back, straightening herself until she resembled a marble statue. She spoke clearly, but not too loudly, clearly attempting to sound as nonaggressive as she could.

“Aela Norvis? Phorae Alyste? I need you both to come with us.”

Phorae was the first to speak, though it was clear she was about as drunk as a krogan after a payday. The younger asari blinked once, eyes wide as if she just noticed that the intruders were there, and then, with all the innocence of a maiden barely past her first century, said, “Did you already call a cab, Aela? Damn, they’re fast!”

Ignoring her friend, Aela pressed her lips into a line, forcing herself to sober up through sheer force of will. She leveled her eyes with the woman in the bodysuit, holding her gaze. 

“I don’t mean to sound rude but . . . who are you, exactly?” Aela asked with a furrowed brow.

Aela didn’t think it was possible, but the plain-faced woman stood even straighter, chin held high.

“I am Eredi Quoren, an acolyte of High Matriarch Trellani T’Mosa, as are my acquaintances, Jora and Theba,” She said with some pride, gesturing to the two commandos who flanked her. “We have been sent to collect you and your friend. For a reason not yet made clear to us, our Mistress wishes to speak with you, Captain Norvis.”

Aela gave Quoren a confused stare, blinking in surprise. 

_Trellani? **The** Trellani? Why would she . . . wait, “captain”?_

“I’m not a captain at the moment, Miss Quoren,” She said, shaking her head. “Haven’t you heard the news? All expansion ventures have been cancelled, all exploration ships grounded.”

“Look at this car, Aela!” Somehow, Phorae had slipped away from her seat on the bench and was now already inside the black van, ogling at the interior like a child in a candy store. “What kind of cab-company did you call? They’ve got _holo screens_ built into the back of the seats!”

Quoren promptly stepped before Aela, putting herself between the former captain and her drunken friend as well as catching the woman’s attention once more.

“I wouldn’t know much about that, _Captain_ Norvis,” The acolyte replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her thin lips. “All I know is that we were given orders to pick up one specific starship captain and her navigator, and then escort you both back to our Mistress’ estate.”

Aela frowned, setting her jaw. She narrowed her eyes at the woman before her, seeing if she would betray anything besides this distant professionalism. The matron had no such luck. 

“And why, _exactly_ , would a High Matriarch wish to speak with the likes of me? I am just . . . _was_ just a starship captain.”

The acolyte opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Phorae’s slurred voice. 

“This is a _nice car!_ Goddess, Aela! I think this is real leather! Not that synthetic crap either, like the salarians like to make, but actual, real leather!”

One of the commandos shot the drunken asari an amused glance, one brow raised as she watched Phorae fumble about among the back seats of their van. 

“How much did she drink?” The woman – Aela believed she was called Theba – asked, grinning like a mother who had caught her young children playing.

Aela threw the commandos an apologetic look, shoulders hunched as she sunk back into the bench. 

“Not a lot,” She answered, cringing as she saw Phorae stroking the leather car seats not unlike an asari would a pet . . . or a lover. “She’s . . . well, she’s a light-weight. More so than I am.”

Theba looked from Aela back to Phorae, still grinning. “I can see that.”

Quoren cleared her throat, drawing Aela’s attention back to her. The former starship captain nodded but averted direct eye-contact, still feeling more than a little embarrassed by her navigator’s obvious inebriation. _Goddess preserve me from a woman in her third century who cannot hold her liquor._

“So . . . Why does a High Matriarch wish to speak with me?”

“I apologize, captain -”

“Not a captain…”

“- Like I said, I was not given any more information than was necessary. I’m just following the instructions given to me. Pick you up, take you to the estate. Now, if you would please join your friend in the car . . .” Quoren took a step back, gesturing to the vehicle behind her, her thin lips curling into what Aela assumed was her attempt at a non-threatening smile.

Aela pursed her lips, her eyes moving from the commandos to the van, studying them, searching for something, anything that would betray a more sinister intent. _Why me and Rae? Why send commandos? Why a High Matriarch? Why Trellani?_

The matron was hesitant, cautious . . . but she was still asari and thus, naturally curious. She slowly got to her feet, rising from the street-side bench. Aela was surprised to find that she was actually taller than Quoren by at least half a foot, but did well to keep a straight face. She started towards the van, nodding, and the commandos seemed to relax, if a little.

“So . . . How were you able to tell if we were . . . well, _us?_ ” Aela inquired as she slid into the car seat beside Phorae, noting herself just how nice the leather cushions were. “My name isn’t that uncommon and I’m going to be honest, I don’t believe I stand out all that much in regards to looks.”

The commandos piled into the car after her, Quoren sliding into the front passenger seat. She craned her neck to glance back at the matron, holding up her omni-tool for Aela to see.

“Biometric scanning,” The acolyte answered, smiling. “You and your crew are in the database. All government employees are, captain.”

Aela frowned once more, brow furrowing. “Government . . .?”

“You and your crew explored distant star systems under contracts charted by the Citadel Exploration Committee and the High Thessian Council,” The commando called Theba added. “You discovered worlds that ended up being candidates for asari colonization. Like it or not, that makes you and your crew government employees.”

Aela leaned back into her seat, soaking in the new information. The car began to move, smooth like only asari vehicles could be. Lights from buildings streaked by, people too, casting streams of color on the darkened windows. 

“Alright then,” Aela said, sighing. “Let’s see what Matriarch Trellani wants with us.”

“Matriarch?” Phorae piped up, blinking her big blue eyes. “What matriarch?”

“You’re going to want to sober up rather quickly, Rae . . .”


End file.
